


Of the Seduction of Sauron - Safe Version

by Mahz



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angband, Angst, M/M, Pain, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahz/pseuds/Mahz
Summary: Safe versionHow Mairon was seduced by the dark lord of Angband.// don't read if you're sad, this will make you sadder//
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Kudos: 11





	Of the Seduction of Sauron - Safe Version

Mairon walked slowly through the immense palace of Aulë, keeping his hands in his pockets, trying to conceal his new creation from the others.  
His heart was racing in his chest and he tried not to look as anxious as he really was.

The little thing bit his finger, and he bit his lip not to make a sound.  
Poor thing was hungry, he didn’t yet know what to feed it.

He tried to think what he could give it. . .Maybe a bit of apple, or some fish.  
But Mairon was stopped in his thought by Aulë himself.

“Mairon, I didn’t see your work today.”

The maiar swallowed and his hand wrapped protectively around his little creature.

“I apologise master, I didn’t do anything worth your attention is all.”

But Aulë was a valar and this kind you do not trick that easily.  
"Show me what’s in your pocket, Mairon.”

On the verge of tears, Mairon did.  
He raised his fist and opened it slowly.

Aulë took a sudden step back and other apprentices yelped or mocked him.  
The valar frowned.

“What is this . . .thing?”

Mairon held it against himself and brushed his thumb on the scaly creature.  
Lizard-like and yet not at all, wings like a bat and little claws, eyes of burning gold, like its creator.

“I…. I called it a dragon. It breathes fire. . .”

Aulë crouched to be at the height of Mairon.  
The apprentice blushed with shame, embarrassed at being treated like a child.

“Mairon, we already talked about your creatures, they are abominations. . .You know what I’m gonna ask of you, do you?”

The maiar sobbed and clutched his little dragon against his chest.

“Please.. . Aulë, Master. . .Please. . .let me keep this one. . .Just one. . .”

But Aulë, who knew such creatures would bring nothing, but ruin would not hear it.  
He took the dragon in his hand and crushed it, leaving only ashes.  
Mairon cried and fell to his knees, trying to gather back what was left of his creation.

“I hate doing this to you, Mairon. But if only you tried to be like the others .. .I would need not to do that.” Said Aulë.  
And then he left.

And when he was no longer here the other apprentices mocked Mairon.

The maiar stayed on the cold floor of the mountain a long time, curled up on himself, his hands dirty with ashes clutching at his chest.  
No sound was heard but his sobs and shivering breaths.

Mairon was not a mediocre apprentice, and Aulë loved dearly his weapons and armors, the jewellery he made. . .  
But Mairon was alone.

And he wanted more than to be a blacksmith.  
He wanted to create something grand, that would impact the world.

So, he made creatures in the forge, and always, every single time, Aulë found out and destroyed them “Because they’re evil.”

Mairon didn’t think his creations were evil, in fact he didn’t believe anything was born evil.  
Evil was made, fashioned by hands of hatred and hurt.

When the apprentices all went to sleep, Mairon decided to walk in the gardens.  
Beneath the mountain, the garden was a little path among mushrooms and crystals, a waterfall glowing blue being the only noise here.

There he sat and opened his scrolls, trying to understand what he was doing wrong all this time.

He was trying to learn a complicated craft when he heard a noise.  
He raised his head and realised he was no longer alone.

Next to him was a tall man, with skin a pale blue, almost grey.  
His long black hair cascading on his shoulders ended in a dark blue color, where shone gems like stars in a night sky.  
He was clad in a simple dark robe trailing on the floor after him.

“Oh, please continue, I didn’t mean to disturb.”

Mairon blinked slowly, he had been warned against Melkor, he had no doubt he was standing in front of him.

“What does Melkor Bauglir does here?”

The Valar didn’t answer but looked at him with a frown.

“Are you really going to treat me the way others treat you? Come on. You’re better than this, Mairon.”

The maiar chewed on his lip and gathered his scrolls.

“I’m leaving anyway.”

But Melkor held his wrist.

“Let us talk a moment, will you?”

Mairon didn’t knew why but he sat down again.  
Melkor slowly walked up to him and gracefully sat next to him.  
Eyes like a starless night sky and opalescent moons of his pupils stared at him.

“What can a simple apprentice be of use to you?”

Melkor smiled and white fangs appeared between his black painted lips.

“You’re talented. I want you to work with me.”

Maioron frowned, if Melkor thought flattery would win him over. . .

“Many an apprentice are talented blacksmith; many are better than me.”

The Valar let out a deep breath and chuckled softly.

“I need no weapons, I need no armors. . .I need you, Mairon.”

The maiar tilted his head.

“Why exactly?”

Melkor took Mairon’s wrist in his big hands and gently opened his hand, brushing the ashes away.  
He leaned and blew softly on them, his breath like an icy wind against his skin.

“Because you’re one of a kind. . .And you have visions. . .I have heard of your works.”

Mairon took away his hand.

“My creations will not serve evil, not serve you.”

Melkor held a hand over his face, as if trying to conceal tears, but Mairon knew better than to trust his act.

“Only I treat you with respect, and yet it is I you call evil? None but me see your potential and talent, they all look down on you, and yet I’m evil? And what if I called them evil, what proof do you have that I am not in the right, and that they’re lying to you?”

Mairon tensed.

“They’re not.”

Melkor clicked his tongue and brushed one hand on Mairon’s cheek.  
Something cold and intense crept through his heart at the touch.

“You’re right, why would they lie to you? They don’t even care about you. . .”

Mairon opened his mouth to snap back but he found some truth in those words, and Melkor knew it.  
The Valar raised a brow and dramatically held a hand over his heart.

“You didn’t see it, did you? The hurt, the pain they give you. . .”

The apprentice tried to swallow his tears, but a single one escaped him and Melkor brushed it away.

“The only truth in their words is that I’m not like them. I would never treat you like they do, I know you would not believe my words. . .that’s why I came here to act.”

Melkor looked at the tear on his finger and a blue flame sprung out of it.  
It twisted and curled over itself and soon it was no more a flame but a feather of smoke.

The Valar held the writhing smoke in front of the apprentice.

“Please Mairon, become more for me.”

The maiar took Melkor’s wrist in his tiny hands and blew on the smoke.  
It twirled and crooked until it was in both shape and flesh a dragon.  
Small and still blind, but a dragon still.

Mairon cared no more if he cried next to the Valar.  
Melkor dropped the little creature in his master’s hand and rubbed a finger beneath its chin.

“Think, my precious, of what we could do together. . .”

Mairon shivered at the name.  
Melkor knew it, and his hand rested on the maiar’s knee.

“Pr-precious?”

And knowing his plan had work Melkor kissed him.  
Mairon leaned in his embrace and his own hand rested on the Valar’s face.

When they parted his heart was hammering in his chest.

“No one ever cared about me… Not since my first breath.”

Melkor smiled and looked at the dragon on Mairon’s lap.

“Come with me, and there won’t be a day you will suffer their mockery again.”

Mairon held his creature tight in his arms as he walked for the first time in Angband.  
Melkor at his side was reassuring him.  
He had fled the mountain in the middle of the night, the taste of the Valar’s lips still on his own.

Though Melkor had helped in his creation, the dragon was Mairon’s, and he had named him Ancalagon.  
To have something of his own was a rare gift for the apprentice and soon Melkor decided it wasn’t enough.

“You need a name, my precious.”

The maiar raised a brow.

“I have a name.”

Melkor pushed him gently against the wall.

“One you will choose for yourself, precious. One that you own.”

He thought and smiled wickedly, his mind embracing Melkor’s manipulations like a lover.

“I’m an abomination. . .”

The Valar wrapped his arms around his waist and left a trail of kisses in his neck.

“You are the greatest of abominations.”

The maiar sighed and brushed his head against Melkor’s throat.

“And my name shall be Sauron, and Gorthaur they will call me.”

Melkor let out a shivering breath against Sauron and took him by the hand.

“Let me show you all that is yours, my precious.”

They passed a great black gate and there laid the heart of Angband, a pool of lava at his feet and the finest forge he’s ever seen.  
Sauron let go of Ancalagon and run his hands on his magnificent tools.  
He starred at Melkor and closed his eyes.

“Leave, this is my home and I have to start my work right away, I shall bring to you my creations.”

Melkor laughed, his voice dark and monstruous a caress to Sauron’s ears.

“Please do, my precious. . .Please do.”

Sauron looked through the fortress but there was only ruin.  
And the throne was empty, and their room was empty.  
And realisation hit him like a sword.

They took him.  
They had taken his master, his Morgoth.

Devastated, he sat on the throne and looked at the crown of Melkor.  
He held it in his hands and kissed it.

He let himself fall on Ancalagon’s back and ordered him to flee.  
When he deemed it safe, to Angband he returned.  
But Morgoth needed an army to escape, and Sauron would give him one.

In three years, he had given Morgoth an army of orcs.  
And when he came back with the silmarils, Sauron washed the blood off his hands himself and pulled the Valar to him.

“How I missed you, my precious. . .” said Melkor, and he kissed him and took him to bed. And so high did Sauron’s love burned for him that before the dawn he had raised an army of werewolf.  
When the sun set, Minas Tirith was his.

But the tides of war came, Sauron hurt fled to his master.  
Alas, when he walked into Angband he found the Valars banishing his Master.  
Melkor gave him one last look, and in his mind for him only to hear

“Vengeance, my precious, I want vengeance.” before the Void devoured him.

He fled and hid, but shattered to no return, once again torn apart from Morgoth, Sauron cried for revenge.  
He had lost all he had worked for, he had lost his one and never would he feel whole again.

So, in the dark land of Angband, Sauron was seduced.  
For no one had given him the love his master did, and no one ever would again.  
Thus, Sauron had sealed his fate to Melkor’s and nothing would stop him till he had claimed vengeance.


End file.
